The Layers of My Heart
by Thunderstorm Kick Drum
Summary: A wizard/demigod hybrid would be almost unstoppable. This leads one of the most evil men on Earth to kidnap the eldest son of Harry Potter and the only daughter of Percy Jackson. Will the families rescue the children? Will they escape His clutches?
1. Chapter 1

**Elsie: Hi guys! Apparently, I am dead, and I welcome my writing partner/best friend/practical twin sister/Beaners/ET/Personal Moony, Leanne!**

**Leanne: Why Hello the amazingly awesome readers of fanfiction! I shall be the other half of this fanfiction, if you haven't figured that out yet.  
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**Elsie: She is my personal expert on all things Harry Potter, for I am not that educated, sadly.**

**Leanne: And she is my know-it-all about Percy Jackson. **

**Elsie: And basic English, being as I correct her so much that she threatens to rip out my vocal cords with a spoon.  
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**Leanne: 1.) IT'S A SPORK! And 2.) One day actually will go through with it, but I'll end up suffocating in my guilt...**

**Elsie: Because you love me too much to injure me! :) I AM THE PADFOOT TO YOUR MOONY, CHILD! **

**Leanne: For some God forsaken reason, I do. :P **

**Elsie: Anyways, we're getting horribly off-track, so... Anyways, we don't own Harry Potter or Percy Jackson or any of their crew. I own Ali, though, so no stealing, or we'll unleash Beka's Purple Ninja Monkeys on you. **

**You have been warned.**

**Please review, to both of us, por favor. Leanne will be putting a notice with the summary on her profile, kind of like a oneshot, and review to her there. So she will feel the love in her inbox, because I would most likely forget that I have to forward your reviews... :/**

**Leanne: PLEASE DON'T FORGET ME! SHOW ME THE LOOOVVVEEE! But, you know, not in the really creepy pedo way... .**

**Elsie: I won't even comment on how perverted I could make that... *snorts* neither of us had any clue the other would type that. PROOF THAT WE ARE TWINS SEPARATED AT BIRTH BY A STUPID BLONDE NURSE WHO FORGOT THAT OUR FRICKEN MOM HAD TWO BABIES!**

**Leanne: ON TO THE STORY!**

**~Elsie**

"K?"

Olive walked into the room with an almost wispy-like stride, her green eyes worriedly falling onto her friend, who was leaning over the railing of the Observation Deck. Olive was a tiny thing, exactly 5 foot with thick, honey-blonde hair that was collected in a braid that fell down the front of her body, stopping at about her midriff. She, like her friend, was wearing a long, ivory-and-gold dress that brushed her feet, which were clad in gladiator style worn-leather sandals. Olive was truly a beautiful young lady, though Olisylvia Voairie was also a calm, wise teenager.

Whereas Olive was the "Virgin Mary" type of pretty, Koresantheia Voairie was more of the rainforest, under-the-hood-of-your-new-Ford-with-oil-smeared-over-her-cheeks type of pretty. With glossy auburn curls that stopped just shy of her shoulders, K was about the same height as her closest friend and adopted sister. Her skin was tanner than her sister's, whose complexion looked much like cream or fresh-fallen snow. Her dress was like her sisters, only with pure gold strands in her hair and on her dress, as well as tattooed into her skin to match her bright golden eyes. Her black wings were folded against her back, though were fluttering nervously. Around her forehead was a thick golden band, acting as a crown that she couldn't lose by leaning a little too far over the edge she was standing on.

"K, you have an Olympian Council Meeting in ten minutes; what are you doing out here?" Olive asked.

The Observation Deck was a large, rounded platform where the members of the Olympian Gods and their families could watch over the World-Down-Under, as they called it. (Koresantheia could distinctly remember a seven year old Olive crossing her arms and saying "But I thought that was what people call Australia?" when first told that).

"Olive," K said worriedly. "Olive, I think my father is acting up again."

"What do you mean?" Olive asked, trying to sound calm, but her voice was a little too fast to give off the pretense of confidence. She quickly strode to her friends' side, hopping up to that her feet were on the bar next to her friend, her sandals barely missing her friend's bare toes. K pointed one of her tan fingers off into the horizon.

"Do you see that, Ollie?" K asked in her teacher's voice. K had practically raised Olive, being as she was six years old when her mother took in the baby. K had frozen at sixteen years, though, as part of her job as the Goddess of the Elements, so Olive had caught up.

Olive raised a hand over her eyes like a visor, squinting against the sun as she fought to find what her surrogate mother was pointing at.

"What am I suppose to be seeing?" Olive asked hesitantly. K turned her large golden eyes, usually so filled with childlike mirth, onto her friend, simply radiating off concern.

"You know those two families I keep tabs on, right?" K told her. Olive nodded; K had a thing with keeping track of families of interest to her ever since she could remember.

"Well, I think my father..." K took a deep breath to steady herself. "I think my father might have kidnapped James Sirius Potter and Alexandreia Bianca Jackson."

Ali's POV

I can barely remember what I was doing before I was taken. I can vaguely remember sitting with Chasling Di Angelo on the swings at Camp Half-Blood, discussing everything that had happened over the span of my 12th birthday, which, oddly enough, was the exact day all of the summer campers were required to go back home to their mortal families, to the day Chasling had arrived with her older brother a few hours ago. I had been animatedly reenacting my attack on a hellhound that had dare interrupt my 6th grade graduation when Chasling was thrown away from me. After clearing my mind of a dull throbbing sensation in my head, I sat up from the ground and realized that it had been me flung away from the blonde Di Angelo child, not the other way around. Chasling's perfect black eyes were staring wide-eyed at me, her nine year old face falling when she saw that I had blood dripping down my forehead. I whipped it off with the back of off-handily; blood didn't scare me anymore. Reaching for my sword, I scrambled to my feet as a thick black mist enveloped the two of us. Chasling screamed; that girl had had a very sheltered life, so it was no surprise to me that her first reaction would be to use that throat of hers.

I lept into action immediately, swinging my sword around me in wide arches and swift parries. The mist was impossible to hit, though, no matter how hard I tried to get away.

Feeling the mist wrap around my ankle, I fell face-first into the thick layer of mud covering the ground at Camp Halfblood. I could feel my sword flying out of my grip, and I prayed to god that it was re-appear in my pocket as my fingers clawed at the ground, feeling myself being dragged towards a horrible sucking noise, my hair whipping behind me like when you stick your head out of a car window that's driving eightly miles an hour down a deserted Kansas highway.

"Chasling!" I yelled at her, gripping at the dirt. "Chasling, get my dad! Hurry!" I spun so that I was lying in the mud on my back, feeling my orange camp shirt get thoroughly soaked. "Actually, Chase," I said in a normal voice. "My sword would be nice. You know, unless you plan on continuing standing there like you just encountered Kronos in Betty Boop underwear."

"Alexandreia, now is not a good time for a smart-ass comment!" Chasling yelled, dropping onto her belly and crawling towards my sword. I prayed Chasling would get it before my sword disappeared... I guess that stupid pocket charm doesn't work if you're wearing athletic shorts that DO NOT HAVE POCKETS...

"It's always a good time for a smart-ass comment, Choove!" I yelled, kicking off the mist from my ankle, which felt like cobwebs on my bare shins. Tilting my head so that I was examining her, I saw her stop crawling in front of my sword, gripping it in her hands and glaring at me exasperatedly.

"Don't call me Choove!" Chasling... well, chastised. I simply ignored her, holding out my palm in the mud as she chucked my sword at me. Praying the blade wouldn't go anywhere near my face, I grabbed the worn leather hilt and sprung up onto my heels. The mist transformed into a new monster upon seeing me standing.

The monster looked like a mixture between a bull, a newt, a wolf and a cracked egg. The body of the beast was all bull, it's coat a shinning white while the head was a wolf. The feet were green and webbed, sticking to everything that crossed it's path. I could feel the Athena side of my brain kicking in as I saw the animal's feet. I quickly assessed the area around me. Monkey bars, monkey bars... Ah!

"Hey, ugly!" I yelled, feeling my shoes sliding in the mud like a fine layer of grease. Grease, or maybe oil... Oil... gasoline! If I can just distract the monster enough, Chasling will get Dad! If he comes, surely Connor Stoll will, too, and his daughter Haylee is an amazing pyro-technician! "Think you can catch me?"

I ran quickly back to the playground, hearing the bull/newt thing keeping pace behind me. Praying my aim was as accurate as I hoped, I launched myself into the air, the tips of my Adidas cross-trainers sliding slightly on the rubber seat of the swing as it flung back into the air. I could feel my right foot giving way, and lurched forward slightly, gripping the chains of the swing as it flung me higher into the air. I took a deep breath, and, praying to every god that I had ever met, I threw my body backwards, straightening myself in mid-air so I landed lightly on my feet on top of the monkey bars, my knee wresting against the metal as my hands flew out in front of me to break my fall. I could see the monster getting closer to the swing, and Chasling running to the big house in the far distance.

Deciding that was the only amount of time I could allot to keeping watch of my younger second-cousin, I straigtened my knees so I was standing on the bars of the swingset.

"Woah!" I yelled, feeling my feet wobble slightly. "Gods, they make this look so much easier in the James Bond movies," I grumble, running across the monkey bars, which would stretch an average-sized football field. I could practically _feel_ the monster running beneath me, the air was so thin. I ran quickly, my eyes locked on my target; the Armory. If I locked the monster in the Armory, I could get Haylee to light the armory aflame using Greek Fire.

That plan probably would have been genius, had I made it to the armory.

I was building up speed, hoping my momentum would carry me from the monkey bars to the roof of the Armory without a hitch.

But, why would that happen? I'm a Jackson! I'm like a prize on the Wheel of Fortune!

I bunched up my muscles in my back and legs, crouching slightly as I ran. Reaching the end of the monkey bars, I sprang forward, throwing myself into the air. I grinned to myself as I tumbled through the air, preparing myself to feel the thick iron of the Armory beneath me.

Instead, I was nearly choked as a hand shot out and grabbed the hood of my Camp sweatshirt.

I gagged, clawing at my throat desperately in an attempt to loosen the strings of my hoodie. Instead, my eyes fell onto the ground, quite a distance underneath my sneakers. I froze, paralyzed in fear. I could hear a deep, thoroughly accented chuckle behind me, and the hand on my shirt tightened coldly, obviously trying to strangle me. I made a slight whimpering noise, attempting to pry the cold, mutilated hands from my throat.

"Aww, is the Olympus' princess afraid of heights?" A raspy, dark voice teased menacingly. The voice was obviously British, and it sounded like he was a 60-year smoker who went through a couple packs a day. "Athena's pride and joy, my ass. Aren't you supposed to be fearless, Little Rabbit?" The voice hissed. I could feel my blood running cold at the name; Little Rabbit was an old joke among our family, a name for when your prey lets itself fall into your trap.

"Who.. are... you?" I choked, giving him my best gray-eyed Chase Death Glare. He cringed slightly, his ghastly pale faced mutilated by an array of scars and burns.

"If you know what's best for you, you'll shut up, child," He spat. I could feel my hand coming up to my face to wipe away the saliva from my cheeks, resisting the urge to say "Say it, don't spray it" childishly. I could hear him talking to another person, though I had no clue how.

"Yes, Ordway. Tell The Master that I've caught Jackson; If Caucous does his job right, we'll have two of the strongest children in the world in our clutches." I could feel his finger drag down my face as the person on the other hand spoke. I growled at his knuckle slightly. "I don't know, the little thing is awfully pretty. Jackson's black hair, curly, Chase's gray eyes. Maybe I'll keep her as my pet." I snapped at this, sinking my teeth into his finger. He hissed in pain, yanking his finger away from my mouth. "On second thought, I can tell this one won't cooperate. Just check on Coucous and report back to me."

"What are you going to do to me?" I spat, flailing around helplessly. He chuckled darkly at me, like my questions were both amusing and annoying at the same time.

"Don't you see, child? You are one of the most ingenious specimen we've ever laid eyes on." He gripped my throat tighter and I could feel my airways constricting, a black fog appearing on the edges of my vision. " The one thing no one ever thought to do was inter-breed two of the most powerful species known to man or otherwise!"

I could feel myself blacking out, my eyelids drifting closed as I heard his muffled voice continue speaking at the edge of my conscience, his monotone words fading to oblivion in my foggy head, never to be remembered upon awakening:

"A demigod-wizard hybrid!"

Breathe...

Keep breathing...

Keep... breathing...

"How splendid!"

James's P.O.V:

"Is that the best you can do, Al? You're gonna have to do way better than that if you ever want to be on the house team!" James yelled from the other side of the Potter's Quidditch field. Albus, James's younger brother, glared at him, but James didn't seem to notice, for his attention was on the shiny little golden snitch fluttering around him. The snitch took off towards the trees, and James zoomed after it on his new Firebolt 2. When James flew past Albus, the younger Potter boy didn't think anything about it; this was usual for James.

James zipped through the air, his jet black hair flying behind him. The snitch was fast and sneaky, everything it was made to be. It flew impossibly low and rounded tight corners, but James never lost it. Albus flew to the edge of the trees and watched his brother. it was obvious James had gotten the Quidditch skills in the family. James was just about to grab the snitch when the air was suddenly filled with a thick black smoke. James came to a stop, his vision completely clouded. He didn't know if he should stay in the air and try to fly his way out of the dark forest or land and wait for the sky to clear. James went for the second option, slowly feeling himself fall.

"James!" He heard Albus cry from somewhere behind him. That was when the wind started. The wind was strong enough to make him stumble, his clothes billowed around him.

"Albus, stay where you are!" James yelled, not knowing what else to do, but not wanting his little brother to be in this. James knew his brother would try to be the hero and make his way into the woods, but eventually just becoming lost and causing more trouble than anyone needed.

"_Lumos_." He whispered, but no light erupted from his wand. James swore under his breath. The wind seemed to be going even faster, and James found a tree to lean on. James strained his eyes, trying to see _something_ other than black. He tried to walk forward, which turned out to be a stupid idea. James tripped and landed in some underbrush. The black haired boy spit out a leaf, trying to stand up again but something grabbed his ankle and kept him down. James tugged at his leg but it wouldn't budge.

"Albus? Are you still there?" He yelled, turning in the direction he thought his brother would be.

"Yeah!" He called, trying to see his brother through the fog. The fog looked sort of like a thick mist to Albus.

"Okay, Albus, I need you to go get dad! And hurry!" James said, his voice rising at the end when something gripped his other leg. Albus took off, pushing his Firebolt 2 to it's fastest. James coughed, his lungs feeling like they were being beat on with a meat cleaver. The fog/mist wasn't exactly the cleanest air James had ever breathed in. He tried to pull himself up one more time, but failed again. James let out a frustrated sigh. Suddenly, he was hanging upside down by his ankles.

"Bloody hell!" He yelled, trying to see the thing holding him up. The fog cleared up, and what James saw made him want to throw up. The monster resembled a bull, but the bull would of been a sort of lab rat because it had the face of a wolf. James didn't get to look at it any more than that, for it had started talking.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." A raspy voice tutted at James. "Got a bit of a potty mouth, don't ya lad?" The monster growled.

"Ah!" James yelled. "Who are you? _What_ are you!" James asked, trying to wriggle his way out of the monsters grasp, which was insanely difficult since he was still hanging upside down. The wizard suddenly noticed his wand just barely in his back pocket, and he reached to grab it.

"_Stupefy_!" He yelled, but the curse did absolutely nothing but make the monster laugh at his attempt. "Shit..." James muttered. He wished Albus would hurry and get their dad. He would know what to do. He always did, and James tried to take some of his dad's bravery. He'd need a lot of it now, that's for sure. Sure he was a Potter, but that didn't mean he was indestructible or something.

"Ordway, tell our Master we got the other kid. He'll be pleased." He smiled, revealing a row of browning teeth, causing James to actually gag.

"Merlin, have you ever heard of toothpaste? Ugh!" James said, covering his nose. The monster grunted and gave James a shake, sending him flying from side to side. By this time Albus had reached their father, and they apparated to the trees.

"James? Are you in there?" Harry yelled, trying to see his oldest son. James tried to yell back, but the monster covered his mouth.

"Well, well, well, here comes daddy dearest to the rescue! Ha, I'd like to see him try to face us, but The Master prohibited us to be seen." The monster grumbled, not liking his orders. Harry took the silence as a very bad thing and started to make his way into the fog after telling Albus to stay where he was. Albus stayed, but angrily crossed his 11-year-old arms and watched his dad head into the woods.

"My dad could destroy you. He will, just you wait. You won't stand a chance against him." James hissed. He didn't like anyone saying bad things about his family. The monster snorted, or did what sounded like a snort; James was still confused on what the monster was. Since the beast wasn't affected by magic, James was basically defenseless. The only thing that could possibly help him was his broom, but he didn't know where it was. James was officially screwed.If his dad didn't find him, that is.

"Well, let's just see if he can find you first." The monster growled, his accent thicker than before. James couldn't figure out how a monster could possible have a Scottish accent. _It's just my luck to be attacked by a monster. And with an accent, of all things... _James thought to himself.

"Well, while we're just standing here, do you think you could let me stand or something? All the blood's rushing to my head and it's giving me a headache." He asked. The monster grunted, but did what James asked him too. When James felt his feet on the ground, he slipped right out of the monsters unsuspecting grasp and made a run for it. Since part of the mist let up James could slightly see where he was going. This didn't help him much, since he still stumbled over his own feet, but it was better than pure swerved when he ran, hoping to try and confuse the monster, but it didn't. Of course, the first time James come face to face with a monster, it has to be a _smart_ monster. James wish he picked up his Firebolt 2, but he didn't have time to.

"Dad! Where are you?" James yelled, suddenly remembering him. James could hear the beast running behind him, so he didn't stop to look around.

"James, I'm over here!" Harry said back. James turned to the direction of his fathers voice. Right when James was about to yell again, he ran right into his dad. Harry was about to say something to his son when he saw what was chasing him.

"Don't bother with magic dad, it doesn't do anything to him!" James said before dragging his dad into a frantic run. The monster terrified Harry, to say the least, so he had no problem with running. Right before the trees cleared, James did the most stupid thing he could of possible done at that moment; he tripped. Harry didn't notice this until he was well ahead of his son, but he soon stopped and started to run back. The monster had caught up to them, and he was not happy. He grabbed James, his claws slightly digging into his skin, and threw him. James heard his head smack against a tree before he actually felt it. James landed on his knees, his head in his hands.

"You stupid boy! You don't run from me!" The monster roared, causing James's head to throb. The monster grabbed him a second time, but didn't throw James again. James looked at his dad, and he knew that he looked terrified. He _felt_ terrified. And pain. He felt that too. Harry was scared too, and James knew it. James tried to get out of the monsters grip, but he wouldn't budge. James swore under his breath and gave up his struggle. The monster sneered at James, gripping his ankles and throwing him into the air. James screamed, balling up in on himself; sure, he had flown before, but for Merlin's sake he had had a broom beneath him!

"DAD!" James yelled, flailing. "Dad, help me!"

"James!" Harry yelled, frantically trying to find a way to help his son. James could feel himself being thrown across something thick and obviously wooden, judging by the splinters he was sure he would have. A hand gripped the back of his cloak firmly, causing James to lurch his body up into the hand.

"Ordway, I've got him! Are you _sure_ Arphenthos got the Jackson girl? I've heard she's a slippery little thing." The voice in front of him was thick and deep, slightly straggly but not not to the point that it was noticeable unless you were pressed up against his back (much like James was right now). James could hear another very small voice, obviously female, speaking back to him.

"Arphenthos is attempting to get the Jackson girl into the Holding Cell as we speak, Caucous. Knock him out so he won't put up a fight, and disarm him; if the Jackson girl gets her sword or the Potter boy his wand, or Gods forbid both of them, then we're done for, you hear me? Toast! Roadkill on the side of Highway 29!"

"Yeah, I hear ya, Ordway," The man said. James could feel his hands getting closer to the top of his head, where he had smacked into the tree. "On it."

"No, please!" James whimpered, begging him. "Please, let me go! Please, I beg of you! Don't, no, please!"

James prayed that was the last time he'd ever lose consciousness to the sound of that man's sickly laugh.

K shook her head sadly, biting her lip as she watched those children.

"Ollie, what do we do?" K pleaded. Olive sighed, resting her head on her sister's shoulder.

"There's nothing we can do, K," Olive mumbled. "Except pray that the families know their children well enough to find where they are."

"And save them," K concluded.

"And save them," Olive agreed.

**Elsie: So! How did we do, guys?**

** Leanne: Good?**

** Elsie: Please review and tell us what you think!**

** ~Elsie**

** _Leanne_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Elsie: Hi, guys! Leanne and I have been to referring to each other as "Mr. Padfoot" and "Mr. Moony" for a couple hours now as I wrote this chapter.**

** Leanne: Yeah, my head's starting to hurt from speaking in third person for so long. And I'm not even using my real name, which is 10 times worse.. O.o**

** Elsie: Eh, it's easy for me, because I've wrote this whole chapter in third person. I'm dreadfully used to it now, and starting to get hand cramps...**

** Leanne: Ah, the pains of a fanfiction writer! **

** Elsie: *Yawns* I am sooo exhausted for you people! YOU GUYS OWE ME!**

** Leanne: And me, I didn't even write a single word in this chapter, so you have nothing to feel for me. *snorts* THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!... Or he, depending on how you think about it...**

** Elsie: And how you play The Game! *Waggles eyebrows suggestively* Anyways, We don't own any of the canon characters for Harry Potter for Percy Jackson, but I do own the OCs, so no stealing.**

** Oh, and Leanne will be posting a little summary of this same story on her profile, LeannePatriciaGroeneveld, so please, review to her, too! LET HER FEEL THE LOVE! Being as I have not sent her your reviews... heh heh... *scratches back of neck awkwardly***

** Leanne: Wait, we've gotten reviews already? What. The. Fudge?**

** Elsie: 3, but who's counting? Anyways, enjoy the story, while I run from Leanne's wrath!**

** ~Elsie (And a furious Leanne, too!)**

"Oh, my head," James grumbled, sitting up against the wall. He started to dig his fingers into his hair, when he heard a quick, snippy voice talk from behind him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"What...?" James turned quickly to the voice; maybe a little too quickly, as a wave of vertigo hit him as soon as he moved. Resting back against the wall, he took deep, even breathes in an attempt to stop his spinning head.

"Obviously you've never had a concussion before, because any trained half-blood knows that you don't move very quickly when you have a concussion... unless you're a stickler for pain, of course."

Lifting his head (slowly this time), only to come nose-to-nose with one of the most beautiful girls he had ever laid eyes on.

The girl had thick black curls that fell like a waterfall around her waist, stopping just shy of her shorts. Her pants were a simple jean, though cut so that they fell on her upper thigh. She was sporting a bright orange hoodie, which she had tied around her waist to reveal a white tee-shirt that said "Girls DO IT Better" in large purple lettering down the front. She also had a number, 23, etched into the front near where a pocket would go. She was crouched in front of him, a pair of white shoes on her feet that were obviously new, but scuffed and covered in mud. She was kneeling on one knee in front of him, the other foot kind of cock-eyed as she balanced on her toes. She was ripping a bandage off of a dirty roll of gauze with her teeth, tearing off a shred and dabbing at the blood that was running thick down his face.

"Who are you?" James asked her, momentarily stunned by her appearance. The girl chuckled, taking the gauze and dipping it in a bucket of yellow water, the wringing of her hands the only noise as the drops of water fell onto the floor when she pulled her hands out of the bucket. The cloth was cool against his burning head.

"Alexandreia Jackson. Gods, you're burning up, dude," She exclaimed, setting her hand lightly on his cheek. Her hand was soft and cool, drawing him forward so that his head was leaning into her palm. She smiled ruefully at him, then stood, her knees not even wobbling. She looked around her thoughtfully, then picked up a stray rock in the corner, testing it in her palm before giving it a mighty throw.

James watched the stone sail through the air before smacking a very buff looking bodyguard in the back of the head. He turned around, growling slightly at the girl, Alexandreia.

"Yo, walking fudgesickle, I kind of need something from my pack." She said determinedly. James raised his eyebrows; she obviously didn't worry about the consequences of her words.

"And why should I listen to you?" He asked, crossing his arms. His words were kind of drawled out, stumbling over themselves on his lips.

"Because, you dimwitted numbskull," she rolled her eyes as she spoke, taking a couple daring steps closer. " If I don't get the water bottle in my bag, this boy is going to die, and your Master will have your head for having all of their hard work ruined."

The guard glared at her for a few moments, then plucked a large draw-string bag off of the wall and rummaged through it for a few minutes before pulling out a blue tin water-bottle, the kind with the clip to a backpack that keeps liquids cold for a long amount of time. He sent Alexandreia a pointed look, obviously asking 'is this the one?' She nodded slightly, and, lightning quick, the man spun and grinned evilly at her before chucking the water bottle at her faster than James could ever hope to catch if it were him.

Alexandreia simply snapped out her hand, though, and caught the bottle solidly in her hand before sneering at the man.

"Dude, you throw like an Aphrodite girl," She mocked. The man simply glared at her before turning back to his post.

"Gods, I think that man had to be constipated; there's no way his face is scrunched up like that _all the time..._" Ali grumbled to herself, stomping over to the boy and unscrewing the top to her insulated water bottle her Aunt Thalia had got her for her birthday. Crouching next to the boy, she tapped the nail of her finger against his bottom lip, ignoring that tiny voice in her head that said _Gods, his lips are so soft..._ The boy's dazzling blue eyes met hers blearily, his mouth opening slightly. Ali quickly poured a couple drops into the boy's mouth, closing his jaw with her finger as he continued to stare open-mouthed at her.

James couldn't stop staring at her eyes, no matter how much he knew that it was an extremely rude thing to do; Grandma Weasley had gotten after him enough times for it that it was permanently ingrained into his head. Alexandreia's eyes were a stormy gray, like standing in the eye of a hurricane. Vaguely, in the back of his head, James wondered if, when Sirius Black was alive, his eyes looked even remotely like hers. Despite how guilty he felt while thinking it, he couldn't help but pray that wasn't the case, so the girl would be the only one with those astounding eyes.

"Thank you, Alexandreia," He told her. The girl snorted, ripping off a new pad of gauze and dabbing it in the golden liquid peroxide-style. James smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, remembering the almost buttery taste the liquid had had to it.

"For starters, don't call me Alexandreia; it's a mouthful. My dad calls me Ali, so you can call me that. Secondly, I never did get you're name, stranger." Her voice was like water, flowing steadily with a confident air. James smiled slightly, gazing around him at the dungeon. A flash of fear for his family struck him; did they get kidnapped, too? Were they alright? Oh, if something happened to little Lily, he would kill himself...

"James. James Potter," he answered. Ali chuckled, plopping down next to him with her legs crossed comfortably, dabbing at the cut on his head with the liquid. She lightly poured a few drops onto his gash, covering it with the rag quickly as possible as she pulled the bottle away. James winced, his fingers twitching in his lap.

"Well, James," Ali said offhandedly, her whole focus on his forehead. James could feel his cheeks turning a flaming pink as her breath from her words tousled the wild black hair on his forehead. Ali smiled slightly; the boy was awfully cute, if it weren't for the fact that he kind of looked like he could be her cousin. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you sound British to me."

"I am," James replied, nodding. A shot of pain smacked his head; he made a mental note not to do that anymore. Ali laughed quietly to herself, which made James wonder why she would be laughing when they've both obviously been kidnapped.

"Funny, I would be the one to be locked up with a British boy; my friend Ciara Stoll has an obsession with British guys, and insists, in her own words, not mine, 'Those fiiine young men are sexy beasts!'" Ali let out a slightly louder laugh, reminiscing. James simply shot her a look, confused.

"You can't tell me you don't know the effect you Brits have on us American girls! My cousin, Rianne, and I have been trying to find your secret hidden base where you teach youth to talk in a way that hypnotises any unsuspecting females!" Ali huffed, grumbling to herself as she worked. "Gods, we thought we were so close, too..."

James chuckled at her antics, leaning his head back against the concrete wall of their cell. It was hard to believe that he had just gotten out of sharing a room with Albus, and now he was back to square one...

Ali whistled lowly, the sound ringing through the small stone room they sat in. She pulled away from him, re-adjusting herself to that she was leaning back against the wall next to him.

"I hate to break it to you, Potter, but whatever your Retriever did to you is going to leave a nasty scar up there."

James' eyes widened, and his hand flew to his forehead. Feeling at the cut, he could see that it had miraculously healed over. His eyes landed on Ali, the crystal blue pools staring at her. She fidgeted, wishing to herself that she had better news... or that she didn't have ADHD in a small room such as this.

"Please tell me that you're kidding. You joking right?" James asked, his voice taking on an edge of hysteria. Ali bit her lip, thinking to herself. James tried to stare at her eyes, and remembered that he could possibly have a scar in the last place he wanted it, but he kept finding his eyes darting back to her front row of teeth, sunken lightly into her bottom lip. He smiled ruefully to himself, before attempting to diffuse the atmosphere he had set. " And my Grandma Weasley says that you shouldn't bite your lips, unless you want them to turn black and blue."

He was rewarded for his efforts by a small laugh, Ali's dirty hand coming up over her mouth as she giggled quietly. He could tell she wasn't trying to be cute or anything; she just didn't want anyone to see her giggling.

"That sounds like something my Grandma Sally would say."

"Well, then tell me; am I in good company?" James asked.

"The greatest," Ali replied, making herself comfortable by his side. " My Grandma is so amazing. She raised my father by herself against all odds, against all of the expulsions and accidents. My Dad is a hero where I come from, with my Mother as his second in command at the time. They were the best of friends since they were twelve, going into battle together when he was almost 16 years old, and coming out victorious on the day he was officially so. They had me when they were 17, unwed and in hostile, rocky territory where his father and her mother were concerned. My Grandma and Papa are enemies, you see, and the only reason they get along now is me." Ali's eyes had glossed over as she talked. " I fear that all of Camp Half-Blood will be out looking for me."

"Camp Half-Blood?" James asked, leaning forward, eyes sparkling with interest. Ali smiled at him, bumping his shoulder playfully with her own.

"It's a place where kids like me learn to hone in on either abilities. My parents are councilors and instructors there and were cabin leaders when they went to camp. I love Camp Half-Blood; it's kind of like a school, but it's really a safe-haven for demigods."

"Demigods?" James asked. Ali shook her head at him, snickering.

"What, you don't know any of this? Demigods are the offspring of a mortal and a god, leaders in the warfield and the most trained and specialized fighters that walk this planet. Many are very famous; Heracles, Achilles..." She choked slightly on her words. "Perseus."

"Wait wait wait, so you're meaning to tell me that the Greek Gods are real?" James stared at Ali, open-mouthed. Ali nodded, biting her lip again. James couldn't help it; he lightly ran his finger across her bottom lip where her teeth were not, and her teeth released her mouth slightly. She gave him a quizzical look, but he just smiled airily. She rolled her eyes, resting her back against the other wall in the corner and propping her feet up in James' lap. He swatted at her playfully, already feeling like she was a close friend to him. Well, she better be, he figured offhandedly, running the bad of his thumb down the arch of her foot. Who knows how long I'll be down here with just her for company?

Ali closed her eyes as he was thinking to himself, a tidal wave of bliss washing over her. As a warrior-in-training, Ali's feet always ached from being constantly on her toes for threats. Feeling James' thumbs dig into the muscles of her foot, Ali could feel her will melting like putty in his hands. James realized that, while he had been inside his head, he had been rubbing her foot. The muscles were stiff, and he wondered slightly if they hurt. Applying a bit more pressure, James ran his thumb from her heel to her toes, wondering when she had taken her shoes off.

"What about you?" Ali asked, running her fingers through her hair. James got this far-off look in his eyes as he thought about his family.

"Well, I have my two parents and my younger brother Albus, who's eleven, and my baby sister Lily, who's nine. I'm in my second year at Hogwarts, which is a wizarding school-" James cut off to take a peek at her face, waiting for her to start yelling, but she only nodded, her face serene. " You start at Hogwarts when you're 11-"

"So you're twelve right now? So am I."

James nods, continuing. " My dad is a hero where I come from, too. He defeated a man we call the Dark Lord, or You-Know-Who. He killed my grandparents on my dad's side when he when my dad was a baby, and tried to use a killing curse on him, but it rebounded and Volde- Um, You-Know-Who... disappeared for a while, leaving my dad with a lightning-shape scar on his forehead from the curse, but alive. He defeated the dark wizard about 15 years ago, give or take a couple years. You-Know-Who... well, we're not really supposed to talk about him outside of our family, but I feel like I can tell you." James took a deep breath. "His name was Voldemort."

To James' utter surprise, Ali snorted.

"Well, I see why he turned bad, then; who in the right mind names their kid Voldemort?"

James felt laughter bubbling to his lips as her nose scrunched up, pretending to vomit into her hand. Of course, Ali had a lot of practise diffusing awkward atmospheres; after all, she had spent most of her life with children of Hades.

"You're lucky you have siblings," Ali commented offhandedly after a few moments of companionable silence. James was still rubbing her foot, his strong fingers trailing along the muscles of her calves now. His thumb paused for a few seconds before returning to it's task.

"Why do you say that?" James asked, his blue eyes meeting her gray. Seeing her watching him, he ducked his face behind his hair bashfully, wondering when he became this shy person he was acting like now. Usually, he's the bold and mischievous Potter son, leaving the title of quiet and thoughtful to Albus.

"Because my mom's mother is Athena, Greek Goddess of Wisdom, and my dad's father is Poseidon, God of the Sea, the two didn't accept their children's relationship due to the animosity amongst the two Gods. My Grandmother, merciless when angry, found out about my mother being pregnant and cursed her with infertility after I was born. My Grandmother then met me and wanted to take the curse back, but found she couldn't." Ali gulped, her eyes watching the small ray of sunlight shower down on James from the small, barred window above her head. His eyes were squinted as he tried to see her around the sun. "I'll never forget the day I walked in on my mom, when I was only three years old, supposed to be unable to comprehend the situation around me, but... I was Athena's granddaughter, ya know?" She swallowed thickly, her mouth suddenly tasting like tar. "My mother was sprawled out on the bathroom floor, her blonde hair falling hanging haphazardly out of her originally messy bun, lying in a pool of her own blood. I was the only one home, and had to call the ambulance at just three years old. It turns out that my mother had had a miscarriage. Since then, she's had four of them, only to end up with the same result; losing her baby when I'm the only one home, as if the Fates are saying 'Look, Annabeth; your only baby watching you lose another!'" She finished in an almost spiteful tone, her voice raised in a poorly expression of a squeaky, provocative female. James saw how much of a toll her memory brought on her, saw the tiny change in her facial features; her whole face fell a bit as she remembered. He patted her foot lightly, his quiet gesture both assuring and comforting.

Ali wiped at her nose with the back of her hand, not wanting to remember the tears she saw on her mother's face, or his father's head in his hands as he arrived at the hospital, his emotions set aside as he held her in his lap, his lips in her hair as he whispered to her honey-words in hopes that it would stop her from crying. _I love you, Ali Bear, _ he had murmured into her curls, his tears rolling down the side of her face to join her own on the fabric of her school blouse. _Remember that you'll always be my girl, no matter what happens._ She had just nodded, her face blank. This was the way she handled grief; with a stoic face and an unnaturally still body.

Carefully extracting her foot from his grasp, she pulled her knees up to her chest, feeling herself putting up her protective walls around her heart. Even without knowing her very long, James saw this, and crawled forward, ignoring the pain in his head as he rested his palms firmly against both of her knees, his face leaning into hers.

"Don't you dare, Alexandreia Marie Jackson. Don't you dare shut me out and crawl into yourself! Just talk to me, Ali; tell me what's wrong," James whispered fiercely, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks. Ali laughed waterly, her eyes taking in his face so close to her, her hands coming up to wipe at her tears.

"Bianca."

"What?" James asked, blinking in surprise. She smiled sadly at him, her lips quivering as her big gray eyes, clouded over with tears, met his own.

"My middle name is Bianca, not Marie."

"Well," James said, faking being adamant. "Marie is such a typical middle name, so I figured if I guessed Marie, I'd have at least a 20% chance of getting it right."

Ali now full-out laughed, her arm releasing her legs and that they fell around her. Her bare toes brushed lightly against James' leg, causing his skin to break out in tingles.

"My dad chose my middle name, after a fallen cousin and friend."

"Funny," James mused, plopping down on his butt and resting his chin on her knees, his eyes closing as her soft, velvet fingers brushed his unruly black locks out of his eyes. "My father named me after his fallen Godfather, and friend."

"So what's your middle name?" Ali asked, her fingertips digging into his hair. James hummed slightly, the vibrations tickling Ali's knees.

"Sirius," James whispered, her fingers making him so sleepy that he barely realized that he had said anything at all. Ali's fingers paused, much like his had earlier, but her fingers then moved down his hair to his neck, her hands tying the hair there into loose knots idilly.

"I think it's a pretty name, James," Ali assures him. Eyes still closed, James snorts.

"'Pretty' is a girls word, Als; it's kind of a shot at my ego to call my name 'pretty'."He says, his head lolling off to the side as her fingers trailed to the back of his neck, his hair becoming tied around her hand.

"Fine then, Mr. Masculinity, your name is handsome. Happy?" Ali asks mockingly. James' eyes opened blearily, his elbows thrown haphazardly over her knees, his fingers burying into her front pocket. Feeling something cold and metal, as well as glossy and flat, James pulled his fingers back out, a thick white-gold chain wrapped around his fingers and a picture in between his ring finger and pinky finger. Turning, James pressed his back against Ali's legs, holding the picture up to the light.

On the picture was two people not possibly any older than 25, standing with what looked to be a younger Ali. A beautiful woman was sitting in a patch of grass, one arm propping herself up as she watched the man and girl in front of her with loving, laughing eyes. She had curly blonde hair that was all tucked and twisted over her should, similar to the way Ali was wearing hers now. To James' surprise, the woman was obviously where Ali got her eyes from, being as they were almost carbon copies. Her hair rumpled in the wind as the two people in front of her laughed with glee.

The man, James thought with a start, looked very, very similar to his father. He had shaggy, yet unruly black hair, falling into his bright green eyes, so alike his fathers that he had to blink a couple of times to believe the photo in front of him. The man was growling so quietly at the little girl in front of him, his fingers out in prime tickle position. He was propped up on his knees, his hands coming down onto the little girl's ribs, causing her to squeal in delight. Watching the girl a tad bit more, James realized that she was actually a younger Ali, about six years old. Struck by the level of love he saw between what was obviously Ali and her father, James realized why she had broken down crying when remembering her family; it was obvious that Ali was Daddy's Little Princess, and also evident that he completely adored her. Watching the man blow a raspberry into his daughter's belly, James, motioned for Ali to look.

Ali peeked over James' shoulder, eager to see what he found. Instead of some extravagant treasure, she instead found that he was holding a family picture from a few years back. Annabeth had brushed out Ali's curls and put her into a beautiful, knee-length blue dress, in an attempt to get a good, statuesque family picture. Annabeth had strove for the perfect picture, and could feel herself getting more and more irritated when either Percy or Ali would move at just the right moment, ruining the picture. Soon, Ali and Percy has started to wrestle, and Annabeth had just given up, accepting the fact that her family was not perfect nor normal, for that matter, with good grace. Originally, the picture had not moved, but Ali just made it off as a wizarding trick, examining the precious momento that had not been in her pocket when she was kidnapped. Who had put it there? Ali wondered, reaching over James' shoulder to finger the worn corner of the photo lightly.

In James' other hand was a white gold locket, with a glowing green trident on the front, with moving owls swooping down in front of and behind the trident before stopping to rest on one of the prongs of the trident, resting against the metal slightly. Opening the locket, James found that it was a mirror, and in the mirror was the woman from the photograph, running about frantically. The man from the photo ran in, his once vibrant green eyes looking dark and defeated. The woman saw this, too, and sunk into a nearby couch, huffing out a breath.

"A one-way Iris Message," Ali said, her tone disbelieving as she wrapped both arms from around James' shoulders to grip the locket in both hands, her arms wresting over James' back so that she was holding the locket but James could still see. James stroked the image lightly, his fingers caressing the metal of the locket. He assumed that meant that the locket had the ability for Ali to see her parents, but not the other way around.

"You found this in my pocket," Ali said suddenly, closing the locket and gripping it tightly in her fist. "What would I find in yours?"

"I dunno," James said, digging his hands into his pockets.

Empty.

"Well, maybe it only works if I do it; after all, you were the one who found mine."

James motioned for her to try, and she dug her fingers into his pockets. James lurched under her touch slightly, realizing how awkward this really was.

Ali's fingers came back out with a piece of paper, much like James' had, but also a tiny round, golden ball. James grabbed the ball from her, realizing that it was his father's golden snitch. He smiled, watching the ball open and come alive, it's tiny wings flapping frantically. Ali watched the ball, too, an amazed look on her face.

"The picture," James said, his hands grabbing the photo still in Ali's hands. He opened it, finding his whole family smiling back up at him. "That's Albus," James said, his fingers pointing at a cute 10 year old boy, with the top two buttons of his plaid shirt unbuttoned, his red hair messy and a carefree smile on his lips. "And that's Lily." A cute little girl with long auburn hair and smiling brown eyes grinned back up at the camera, quite unlike her two brothers' crystal blue ones. She was in the arms of a pretty redhead, who James pointed out as his mother. "And that's my dad," James whispered, his fingers pointing at a man that looked like an older version of her father, but with a large lightning scar on his forehead; Ali realized why it meant so much to James that he not have a scar there. This family picture just consisted of smiling and laughing family, each person calm and where they should be, a sharp contrast from the Jackson family photo, despite the lack of children.

"Your family looks amazing," Ali said enviously. She quickly changed the subject to the golden ball. "What's that called?"

"The Snitch," James said, his fingers closing around the ball. He watched it with sad eyes. "I don't think it's a really good thing that I got my father's Snitch, Ali."

"Why?" Ali asked, running her fingers through his hair. James could feel his eyelids drooping, and he tried to tell her why, though his words were a bit slurred.

"Because my father obtained the snitch the year he was set to die."

**Elsie: So, tell us how we did!**

** Leanne: Damn it, where the hell have I heard the name CousCous before!**

** Elsie: Whoever sent that, please inform my oblivious friend; thank you.**

** Leanne: And remember to review!**

** ~Elsie**

** _Leanne_**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, guys! Sorry this wasn't updated sooner; I had writer's block, and my birthday. I just wanted to thank everyone who reviewed, and I'm sure Leanne would, too, if she were here. She, the lucky twat, is currently sleeping. .**

**Anyways, here's the update. Remember to review, 'cause that makes me update. No reviews, slow as a snail updates. Thanks!**

**~Elsie**

**Disclaimer: I own don't own anything you recognize.**

**Claimer: I own Alexandreia Bianca Jackson. O.O No stealing.**

Ali could physically _feel_ his eyes on her as she woke up. Deciding it wasn't worth a British interrogation as to why she woke up so late, Ali rolled back over onto her stomach, her arms propped up on James' legs and her chin resting on his kneecaps. She peeked at him from between her eyelashes, only to see his grinning face, bright blue eyes dancing.

"What's got you looking like the cat who ate the canary?" Ali asked, sitting up and running her fingers through her curly black hair, which she pulled off onto her left shoulder, opposite of James. His eyebrows furrowed, looking confused. Ali laughed, shifting so that her head was resting against his thigh, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

"It's an old mortal saying my mother used to tell me; I'd come downstairs smiling, and she'd tell me, 'well, you look like the cat who ate the canary; what're you up to?' I think she's a bit of a hypocrite, because she was always a trouble maker, too." Ali answered. James just smiled softly.

The last thing he wanted to do was tell her that while she was sleeping, James had been taken away for testing. He remembered how they extracted some of his most frightening thoughts, taking them to paper, and soon, reality. Without his wand, he was "pretty much screwed," as Ali would say.

_Screams echoed across the room. James could feel his throat rubbing itself raw with every breath be took, as his skin lit aflame and needles stabbed mercilessly into his skin, cold slashes appearing on his skin, like ice chips in the summer. His vision was clouded with tears, and he could taste the dark, coppery taste of his blood running off of his tongue and down the tear tracks of his dirty face. His eyes watched as time seemed to suspend, the drop of blood splattering those stupid steel examination tables with a thick dark red. His eyes darted down to his palm, the new slash marks staining his fingers a sickly, sadistic cupcake pink before it, too, turned red. The knife came back down on his skin, and his breath left him again, his throat constricting as he choked on his own blood. A hand shot out to hold his cheeks together with clenched fingers._

_ "You be silent, Boy; we can make your life very horrible."_

_ It was the same voice that had first kidnapped him, causing rage to course like venom through James' body. He spat at the man, the blood spattering those horrible white cheeks and thin cracked lips. The man growled, his hand lashing out to grab James' hair, pinning him harshly to the examination table. James screamed, thrashing._

_ "You can be defiant to your hearts content, but just know, Boy, that she's next. If you tell her anything that has happened or even let on to any injuries, her 'treatment' will be doubled. Now you wouldn't want that, would you?" The man whispered into James' ear._

_ James stopped fighting, his vision getting slightly blurred as the pain finally set over him like a thick layer of fog._

_The only thing he remembered after that was being thrown into his and Ali's cell, crying silent tears as he lay dejected on the floor, his new sweatpants now hiding a thick bleeding patch of muscle on his ankle that used to be covered by skin. Skin that is probably in a jar in some sadistic man's office, set up on the mantle of his fireplace proudly where his kids, wife, and friends could see; skin that used to hold a black-inked family crest, once proudly adorned before being retched away from James, his identity torn from him just like a pesky eyelash, or a small river leach on a screaming toddlers' knee. _

_ Without that crest, James could hardly remember who he really was, as his seemingly perfect life was blown away like dandelion seeds in the breeze mercilessly, as if it had never been there in the first place._

"James? James, c'mon, you're scaring me. James! Wake up!" Ali cried, shaking James's still body. James awoke with a start, shooting up into a sitting position, but soon regretting doing so. A pain shot up his leg, and James couldn't help but wince. Ali noticed, of course, and started to lift up his pant leg before he grabbed her hand.

"It's nothing, Als. I guess sleeping on concrete is finally catching up on me." James said with a small smile. Ali put a hand on her hip, and James knew she wouldn't let it go.

"You sure, James? You seemed perfectly fine before we went to sleep. Are you lying to me?" She asked, her head cocked to the side. Ali knew that James didn't have the strongest will power, and that he would give in soon.

"I'm absolutely sure. And, you know I wouldn't lie to you." James told her. It killed him to be lying to her, but he hoped she believed him. By the way she looked at him, James figured she believed him, but he tried to be more careful of his facial expressions from then on. They fell into a comfortable silence for a while, both of them rubbing the sleep out of their eyes. After a while, the silence was broken by the sound of the lock being turned. Ali and James both shot up, James stumbling a bit on his bad leg. Ali was about to say something when the door opened, revealing a dirty, scar covered man. James sprinted to stand in front of Ali, preparing himself to protect the girl behind him.

"You do know that I'll actually stand a better chance against that guy, right?" Ali whispered in James's ear. James was about to respond but the man in the doorway stalked inside the cold, dirty cell.

"Come here, girl. It's your turn." The man sneered, his eyes shooting daggers at the two of them. James grasped her arm, keeping her from stepping in front of him.

"Don't you dare touch her." James growled, his voice sounding menacing. The man kept creeping towards them, and James pushed Ali further behind him.

"You already had your turn, kid. Time to let your friend have some fun now." The man said, getting much too close now. James tried to push him back, but the man shrugged James off like he was nothing, and before he knew it, James was flat on his back, groaning. James could feel his ankle start to bleed, and he watched as the blood started to soak the material of his sweatpants.

"James, what is he talking about? What didn't you tell me?" Ali cried, trying to find a way to get to James. The man gave James a sharp kick to the gut to make sure he didn't try to get up. James spit out blood and moaned. Ali tore her eyes from James to look at the man, her eyes blazing with hatred.

"You know what, I don't have time for this," The man grumbled, shoving James to the side. James flew to the back wall, this head taking the impact with a sickening snap. Ali gasped, and turned her eyes onto the man, her voice seething.

"Who do you think you are?" She screamed, running to James. The man grabbed her before she could, though, and dragged her kicking and screaming out the cell doors.

"James! _James!"_ She howled, her voice dying as she got farther down the hallway.

James screamed in agony, though not for his newly throbbing head; he couldn't picture anyone going through what he did, and they took her away.

His Ali.

James' eyes started to blurr, his vision lined with black. He sunk the rest of the way down the wall and onto the floor, clutching his hair with his fingers tightly. Tears started to leak from his eyes, dripping down his cheeks as he gasped in air. His bare feet slid closer into his body, one leg falling out flat onto the floor as he cried. He could feel the burning off the pain-killers in his chest, which was bare. The gray sweatpants were doused in blood and dirt, mud underneath his nails as the dirt floor of the cell slowly became slick, the rain dripping inside slowly from the open, yet bared, window. James' blue eyes turned a horrible, agonizing silver as his chin tipped back, sniffling as the tears left tracks down his dirty cheeks, his teeth shattering and his body wracking with every sob. His lips turned red as the blood from earlier today surged back up his throat. James coughed slightly, the blood spattering on his hands and dripping down his chin. He examined his hands, blistered and cracked. Blood fell from his chin onto his bare chest, slowly trailing down his skin before dotting the draw-string of his pants. His fingers returned to his hair, his fingers tightening around the ebony locks, the red in his hair shining as lightning flashed overhead. His fingers threatened to pull at the roots, yank the patches of his head until it lay bald. Another drop of blood fell, but this time, he didn't feel it on his chest.

Reaching his fingers onto his throat, he realized that, somehow, Ali had slipped her golden locket around his neck. His shaky fingers found the clasp, and he carefully opened it. He watched the image of a crying Mr. Jackson, much in the same position as he was, for a moment, taking in the similarities to his daughter; olive skin, unruly black hair, freckles. He watched Mr. Jackson's head tip back, his lips quivering. The locket vibrated suddenly, and James held the object closer to his face. This time the vibrate was deeper. Tightening his fingers around the object, he held it to his ear. He was shocked to find that he could hear, so softly, a deep, throaty voice speaking through the object.

"Please... any god that could be listening. You can kill me now, shoot me down and send me to the Fields of Asphodel. Anything... just please; keep my baby girl safe. She's all I care about, please! Keep my baby safe... keep my Ali Bear safe... I beg of you..." The voice broke off into a sob, and James pulled away the locket to see Mr. Jackson's head fall back down, his tears falling faster than before. James could feel his tears dripping down his face quicker as well. His shaking fingers held the locket to his quivering lips, the blood staining the surface red.

"I promise you, Mr. Jackson," James whispered into the metal. "I'll protect her. So help me, I won't fail her..." He trailed off, his blue eyes flickering to the doorway. "Not again."

"Because she's my Ali Bear, too."

Harry's POV

"_What do you mean you don't know where James is?"_ Ginny screamed. The man if front of her, Auror Diovello, crossed his arms and sighed deeply. Multiple Aurors have been in and out of the Potter's household all day, and she still didn't get it that they just didn't have enough evidence to call a full out search for the boy.

"Mrs. Potter, please be reasonable! We just can't do anything right now! There just wasn't enough at the scene to post a search, no matter what your husband may or may not say." The man said, trying to keep his temper under control. While the man tried to keep his down, Ginny let hers fly through the roof.

"Now, you listen to me. You _will _go out there, you _will_ find my son, and you _will _bring him back to me. Don't try and argue with me, because I know many different ways to make sure you will never be able to reproduce again." Ginny growled, taking another step towards the man every time she said "will". The man soon was backed against a wall, and he gulped, not daring to look into the infuriated woman's eyes. 

"Do we have an understanding, Auror Diovello?" Ginny asked, backing away from the slightly terrified man. Auror Diovello quickly scurried out of the woman's reach before replying.

"Of course, Mrs. Potter." The Auror said before walking away. Before he could leave the room, Ron Weasley came striding in and put an arm around Auror Diovello's shoulders.

"I really wouldn't disagree with her right now. She's a Weasley girl; take away their kid, and they go all Mother Bear on you." The ginger man said, ruffling Auror Diovello's neatly styled hair before letting the man slink out of the room.

"Momma! Momma! Momma!" Lily yelled, slipping into the room in her overalls with one sock on. Her big brown eyes stared up at her parents. "Mom, Dad, there is a strange girl in our washroom, sitting on top of our washing machine!"

Harry and Ginny took one look at each other and bolted upstairs, towards a small tiled bathroom where all of the laundry in the house was done. Instead of the neat, folded piles of clothes Ginny had left on top of the dryer, they found the whole room _covered_ in bubbles.

In the dead center of the small bathroom as a girl, about 16 and rubbing her rear with an irritated face.

She had long, choppy black hair that fell down to her waist. Most of it was kept in loose braid, a long ribbon of silver threaded in with her hair. She was a bit on the shorter side, with a pair of soaked fabric sneakers on her feet. She had bangs of different lengths hanging in front of one of her eyes, which were a striking electric blue. She was dressed in a pair of almost black jeans that hugged her legs, and a silver jacket overtop a dark blue shirt with the words 'I don't know, ask your boyfriend' printed in large letters down the side. She had a headdress across her forehead, a notch in the back making so that the thin silver band was pressed snugly against her skin.

The unnerving part about her appearance, though, was the thick strap going from her left shoulder to her right hip, securing in place a worn leather quiver that held a beautiful old-tyme style longbow, like the ones in old stories and myths. The bow was a gorgeous ebony, with a worn drawstring that looked difficult to pull back. There were moving carvings in the body of the bow, of girls running, dancing and leaping, swinging from trees and hunting deer.

The bow looked to be a perfect set with the eight matching dark redwood and mahogany arrows, each with what looked to be Phoenix feathers near the notch and a wickedly sharp, seemingly bronze tip. One arrow was hanging lopsidedly out of the quiver, leading Harry to believe that she had been in the process of pulling it out before Lily had found her, starling her and causing all of the water, and the bubbles with it, to come spilling out of the washing machine as she tumbled to the floor.

"'You must be stealthy, Thalia,'" The girl grumbled in a high falsetto. "'If you catch the residents off-guard who knows if they'll listen to you or not.'" Yeah, right; stealthy my ass. She knows very well I am not, by any means, stealthy."

"What's going on?" Harry growled, gripping Lily's shoulders with both hands and pushing Ginny behind him **(AN Elsie: Hmmm... I'm beginning to sense a pattern...)** The girl met Harry's eyes briefly as she pushed both of her elbows behind her.

"Your son; James, right? He was taken?" She asked, blowing her bubble-coated bangs out of her face. Harry and Ginny's eyes got wide, as well as Ron and all of the other Aurors.

"How do you know that?"

"Do you know where he is?"

Harry and Ginny spoke simultaneously, Ginny's voice rising over Harry's with frantic desperation only a mother could succeed in showing. The girl smiled at the two of them slightly, and extended one hand to Ron.

"Help me up, will you? I'll explain everything once I'm dry." Ron grabbed her hand and yanked her up from the ground. She slipped a little in the dish soap that had spilled from the shelf above the washer, but kept her balance. "Mrs. Potter," She asked politely. Ginny's eyes widened at the fact that this unknown girl knew her name. "If it's not a bother, may I please have a towel?"

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"Well," the girl started. The Potters and the Weasleys were all gathered around her in the sitting room, the fireplace blazing and the children on the floor around her. The girl was seated in a large, one-person leather chair, wearing one of Harry's too-big tee-shirts and a pair of knee-high socks, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, her hair taken out of it's braid and in a messy bun on top of her head. She was drumming her fingers on her bow, which was on the arm of the chair next to her. Ginny remembered how awkward it had been, waiting for her to get done changing. Ron and Hermione were on the love seat on the opposite side of the room, Hermione biting her nails anxiously and Ron rubbing her arm soothingly. Ginny and Harry were sitting at alert on the couch, Harry in the middle with a teenage Teddy Lupin sitting beside Harry in the open spot. He had Hugo in his lap, with all of the other children sitting as close to the girl as possible. Victoire Weasley was sitting on the arm of the couch beside Teddy, watching the intruder curiously. Molly and Arthur stood in the doorway, waiting for her to speak. The other Weasleys were standing or sitting all over the room, in assorted places. The girls eyes flickered to Ginny, who nodded at her to continue.

"My name is Thalia Grace. I go to a special camp in America, but usually am out traveling all of North America and Europe with a group of girls, like me. We're kind of like a girl scout troop, only we don't sell cookies." Thalia laughed at her little joke, but realized that none of the people around her were in the mood for jokes. "Um... anyways, the reason I know about your son is because something recently came up at our camp, with much the same result." Astounded gasps rang out across the room. Thalia took a deep breath, and continued.

"The child at our camp that was kidnapped is named Alexandreia Jackson. She's the same age as James, and was kidnapped at the same time, same date, different continent. Ali had been running from a monster, which she usually wouldn't do, so we were lead to believe that she had some kind of escape plan. She had been running across a piece of play equipment before she jumped, only to be caught in the air by a strange black mist. It seemed almost humanoid, and was gripping the hood of Ali's shirt as it flew away with her. Her parents, my cousin and one of my best friends, are completely distraught. In an attempt to find where she went, my group and I started looking into recent... magical, disappearances, if you will.

"We then found out that your son was taken by the same thing. Being as they're the same age, we can't help but think that someone had distinct motivation to kidnap the two of them. We believe that they are being held together, where ever they are."

"If this is the case, Mrs. Potter," Thalia asked, leaning forward so that her elbows were rested on her knees, her gaze locking on Ginny. "Then we'd like to ask that your family and yourself, as many as you wish, accompany my group and I back to Long Island, New York. There, we believe that if we all work together, we can locate and retrieve the children." Thalia abruptly shook her head. "Dear Gods, I'm starting to sound like Athena."

"What do you mean, 'we'? What are you talking about?" Ron asked. The girl turned to look him in the eyes.

"Us; Demi-gods. The children of a human and a god." Everyone in the room gasped. Thalia snickered, leaning forward and holding out her hand to Harry.

"I guess I haven't properly introduced myself; my name is Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus, king of the Olympians and Greek god of the skies,and lieutenant of The Huntresses of the Artemis, Greek goddess of the moon and the hunt. Also a Guardian of Olympus, and former defender of Half-Blood Hill."

**Please review and tell me how we did. **

** ~Elsie**


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